


The Prophet's Prophecy

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, MutualPining, OFC - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, annoyingbeetles, journalistharry, originalfemalecharacters, originalmalecharacters, press, ritaskeeter, thedailyprophet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21558733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: Harry buys the Daily Prophet, determined to make things better. He prints a week long report of the War, dedicating one edition to Draco Malfoy....//Completed//Word count: 8.6k
Relationships: Drarry - Relationship, OC/OC
Comments: 7
Kudos: 109





	The Prophet's Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> this has been loads of fun especially with the original characters i got to add! ive never really added my own characters before but im really glad i tried it cuz i had a blast!

"Harry-Please, listen-" Hermione tried, though she was well aware it was fruitless.

"Mate, if you want to waste your wealth, then you should waste it on booze, not on buying the bloody Daily Prophet!" Ron agreed with his wife fervently, in a slightly more crude manner granted.

"I don't know guys...I kind of like it." Harry rubbed at his jaw, mumbling into his palm. Ever since he'd overheard two witches talking about how the Prophet has really scraped low, and could do with a change of ownership, the idea had been in his head. Merlin knew when Harry got an idea in his head, not even the Queen herself could knock it out of there. "You know I've always liked to tell stories, this seems like a good way to do it." He continued, shrugging. He relaxed further into the creme sofa in his living room, Ron and Hermione snuggled into a loveseat across the small glass coffee table. Ron was plaiting Hermione's hair with careful fingers while she sipped her tea.

"Yes, but the _Prophet_ , really?" Ron snorted, fingers working through his wife's hair. She preened at the touch, and Harry couldn't help but feel happy for them. He sighed though and bit his lip:

"The Wizarding World could do without Skeeter. The Prophet's done a lot of damage to a lot of people. Especially-" Harry swallowed the name rising in his throat and flushed. It wouldn't do good to rehash _that_ conversation. To pick old wounds raw again. He noticed Ron's eyes harden, and Hermione's shoulder stiffen, though just barely. "So yes, anyways, I was thinking. If I buy it, it can turn a new leaf, and print actually worthwhile stories for once, yea?" He hastily scrambled to divert the topic. _That_ was one of the few things the three of them stood on opposing sides of, and it didn't seem like they would ever see each other's arguments. So after they'd cut contact for a full week over a row, the three of them missed each other too much and reunited with an unspoken promise of just _not_ discussing it ever again.

"If you're that dead set on it Harry, we can't exactly stop you, it's _your_ money." Hermione shrugged, accepting the change of topic gratefully. She took another gulp of her tea. "Perhaps you have a point even." She conceded after a moment of consideration.

"Harry, mate, you _know_ that even if you do turn a new leaf for that paper, just the fact _you_ own it would make everyone hail praises to it nevertheless. It wouldn't make a difference." Ron pointed out as he finished off Hermione's braid.

Harry gave him a long, sly smile:

"That's just the thing Ron. _No one_ will know it's _me_. I'll buy it anonymously."

~

And so, Harry had done it.

He'd bought the Prophet, and not a soul found out who he was. He used a strong Forget-Me glamour, and it was within a few days that both the name and face of the buyer faded from everyone involved's minds.

The first thing Harry did, was fire Rita Skeeter.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't take just _a lil_ bit of perverse pleasure from watching her face blanch when she was notified she was being _let go_ _of._

The second thing Harry did, was conduct an interrogation. He questioned the entirety of the reporters and photographers remaining, trying to weed out those good, honest ones from the scandal seeking shams.

Harry was appalled to find he had ended up firing all but five. Only five bloody reporters who wanted a real, honest story rather than a story that would raise hackles.

Well. He'd have to work with what he got, he supposed. He reduced the Prophet's production significantly, until the work was manageable between the six of them, revealed his true identity under a secrecy disclosure, and was pleased to find these five had not a care it was Harry Potter they worked for. They didn't even bat an eyelash when he'd told them. Next, Harry put out an anonymous statement that the Prophet was changing. The public had taken well to that.

The process had gone by smoothly, and it wasn't long before Harry was running the paper with no issues. He didn't do field work, of course, but he would write the articles often, getting involved with the work. He really enjoyed it. Turning a story his team brought him into a real article. There was just something satisfying in holding the freshly printed paper before it's delivered. He worked well with his five reporters, they'd all become good friends working together so closely. Harry was really glad he'd made an impulsive decision all those months ago.

"Harry! I've got a good story I think." Lalli popped into his office, grinning ear to ear. She was a petite girl, with long, straight black hair falling down to the middle of her back. Bangs curled on her forehead, her pale skin completing the picture of _menacing._ Though her warm hazel eyes and round face softened out the image quite enough. As well as the pastel skirts and big sweaters she always insisted on wearing, paired with knee high stockings and polished shoes. She could easily be mistaken for a highschooler, despite being the same age as Harry.

"Ah, lay it on me." He grinned at her and she plonked down onto the awaiting chair, tossing her feet up onto Harry's desk. He scowled down at the offending appendages, he'd told her millions of times not to do that, but she knew Harry was too much of a softie to ever properly reprimand her, so she never took his warnings seriously. He ought to hex her feet into tentacles for that. With a resigned sigh, he shuffled his paperwork away from the shiny heels and tuned in to listen to her.

"So I was making my way to Flourish & Blotts to pick up a new book, when I noticed it was _closed_. Then I thought, _that's weird_ , they're never closed at this time of day, and I was curious. So I made my way around to the back door, only to find Madam Villanelle shuffling out, looking morose. I asked her what happened, and she told me, _get this_ , that the owner of the store has decided to close it down in favor of pursuing a career in _wandmaking._ And so, now she's unemployed."

Harry arched an eyebrow. That was certainly an interesting story. He knew for a fact most children purchased their books in Flourish & Blotts when they went off to school. He, himself, had shopped there. It was a big deal that it's being shut down.

"That could be quite interesting. Most, if not all kids shop there for textbooks right?" He pushed his glasses up on his nose. Lalli nodded and chewed on her bottom lip, catching the lip ring she had in.

"Yes, exactly, it'll certainly catch the attention of the people, to hear this. Especially those preparing to go to Hogwarts for their first year after..the War." Her voice quieted towards the end, a dark smudge flicking in her eyes. She'd lost her younger brother in a Death Eater raid.

Harry nodded, swallowing down thoughts of the past. It had barely even been a full year after the War had ended, and Harry had been shocked to find how quickly Hogwarts was repaired and ready to accept students again. He cleared his throat and focused at the task at hand:

"Alright, notify Nolan and Tammah, and ask Sari and Nai to go and get a photo and a quote. You _did_ get Villanelle's consent to print _right?"_ If there was one thing he _stressed_ , it was making sure they had consent to print about someone before they did, because Harry was _determined_ to do better than Skeeter ever did.

"Of course I did Harry, you've only drilled it into us _a million times_." She rolled her eyes at him and swung her feet off his desk, disappearing in a flurry to do what he'd instructed before he had time to scoff and defend his case.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes falling to the stack of unfinished scribbles he'd been working on for quite a while now. He hadn't the guts to bring it up to the rest of his crew until now, but he'd seen well enough just then how the War still deeply affected people, and perhaps it'd be good for the truth to see light.

Unfortunately, he'd have to bend his own rules to do what he'd wanted to for a while, but he was well aware there would be no other way. Guilt niggled at him, but he pressed his lips and shook it off. This would be good. He hoped.

~

"Photo good?" Sari asked Harry, laying out a couple of pictures before him. He was a tall, dark skinned man, with buzzcut hair dyed a shade of mint that suited him very well. He had a sharp chin and an angular face, but was by no means an intimidating man, despite the piercing amber eyes set deep into his face. He preferred to dress scruffy, baggy pants and leather jackets. He was from Germany, and had only recently moved to England, when his aunt had fallen ill. He didn't speak very good English yet, but Harry could understand him well enough, so there were hardly any issues. Harry found his odd mix of German and English quite fetching at times.

Harry picked up the pictures and discarded two that seemed too unflattering to the issue, and handed back the one that was perfect.

"Yes, they're good Sar."

"You work zu viel Harry, I worry." Sari tssked, collecting the photo and repeating to Harry what he'd been saying for a while now. From the time he'd spent with the man, Harry had picked up on the most basic of German, and knew that _zu viel_ meant _too much._ Harry supposed he had a point, he'd gotten so consumed with his secret project that he'd disregarded a lot of other things.

"I know, sorry, it's just..I've been working on something and.." Harry shrugged and let the sentence hang in the air. He stood up and followed Sari out of his office and into the open room where all the magic happened. Five cubicle style spaces lined one wall, while printing machines lined another, finally a hallway leading into the Owlery connecting off the corner of the room. Sari kept giving him surreptitious looks while they walked, though he said nothing more of the issue, focusing back on getting their article done in time for delivery.

"Alright! How's it going?" Harry clapped his hands and smiled. He loved the din and the ever present business that buzzed through this room.

"Almost done, pumpkin. We need a couple more printed. Nai's in the Owlery, trying to bribe Claw and Eugene into complying with treats." Tammah called from the printers, stacking the copies into a neat pile and rolling them up so they'd be easier for the owls to deliver to homes. She was of an olive complexion, with shoulder length blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She was born with one leg shorter than the other though, giving her a slight limp, but she never let that deter her when she did field work. Harry always incessantly worried but she'd explained to him the ruthless bullying she'd gone through had trained her into not letting her shorter leg stop her, and really, she'd stayed true to her word. She was the best out in the field out of all of them, and Harry always felt a sense of pride towards her. It was a wonder how she managed really, since tight jeans and skimpy crop tops paired with heels Harry would break his neck in seemed to be the only clothing items she owned. In exclusively the colors black and deep purple. She looked very intense with vivid red lipstick and her thick accent, and she really _was_ intense, especially when she garnered passion for something.

"Okay, I'll go see if those ruffians have pecked out Nai's eyes by now." Harry chuckled, nose scrunching up. Nai could be a right terror, but she had a true soft spot for birds, owls in particular, and didn't know how to put her foot down with them.

"Wouldn't put it past them. Especially Eugene. He'd probably make it look like the poor girl did it to herself somehow. That bird is _too_ smart, I tell you." Tammah's voice carried into the hall as Harry made for the Owlery.

Upon entering, his suspicious proved to be correct. Claw was flapping his wings and tugging at Nai's curly hair fisted in his claw, while Eugene was picking at her blouse ruthlessly. She looked at the end of her tether, her full cheeks red with exertion.

Harry sighed deeply, and pulled his wand out.

"Let go of Nai you monsters or I'll bench you." It was the only threat that ever seemed to get the two nightmares to behave. As much as they adored to misbehave, they loved delivery even more, and the threat of losing that always got them in order.

Claw immediately perched on the nearest stand obediently, Eugene joining him shortly.

Worked like a _charm_.

"Harry! Oh _thank_ you!" Nai rushed to him and hugged him tight, and Harry chuckled into her frizz. She reminded him of Hermione in certain aspects. The wild hair for example, the only real difference being hers was shorter, styled into a bob cut. She too, like Sari, had an affinity for hair dye. Her hair was colored the most obnoxious shade of Gryffindor red Harry had ever laid eyes upon, and the rest of her wasn't far off either. That girl _really_ loved red. If it wasn't her shirt, it was the makeup, if it wasn't the makeup it was the jewelry, but either way, _something_ on her had to be _red._ She always claimed she had to match her hair to something else, and Harry always agreed with her, because he really didn't have the heart to argue with her botomless black puppy eyes.

"No problem. You really need to put your foot down with them." He admonished her gently, glaring at the two deviants. All of their other owls were well behaved, even a bit shy, but not those two.

"I know, I know, it's just.. _look_ at them. They're so _cute._ " She grumbled at herself. Harry shrugged.

"Can you handle the send-off for today's news, and then meet us in the break room? I have something I've wanted to discuss with you guys for a while."

"Sure Harry." She nodded and he made his way out, an anxious pit in his stomach. This meant a lot to him, and he really hoped they'd be behind him. He bumped into Nolan on his way out, bringing the stack to Nai. Nolan was by far the tallest person Harry had ever met, and he was well aware of it. He sported shoulder length brown hair that seemed just as wild as Harry's, difference being it actually looked _good_ on him. He had a few tattoos littered across his arms and back, and was the most typical example of a punk in all but personality. Ripped jeans and tight tshirts completed the faux punk impression.

"Hey shortie." He grinned down at Harry, who rolled his eyes and huffed:

"I'm your _boss_ , remember?"

Nolan chuckled:

"You're my short boss."

Harry gave up the fight he knew he'd never win and made his way back into the work space, calling the rest of them to join him in the break room when they were done handling the Flourish & Blotts story. Harry offered to write it himself, but Lalli refused, adamant to sign her name off on the article. He knew why, of course. Books meant a lot to her, they'd meant a lot to Ralphie, her younger brother, while he was alive, so Harry let her. He entered the little break room space he'd added when he purchased the Prophet, settling deep into one of the beanbags and waited, bouncing his leg all the while.

He _really_ wanted this to work.

~

When Nai made it into the break room, picking feathers out of her hair, Harry was a ball of nervous energy. He had his project clutched in his hands tightly, and he thought about the best way to present it.

"Alright Harry. You said you had something to talk about?" Nai finally settled into the final beanbag.

"Is it a pay raise?" Lalli grinned wide, and Harry chuckled nervously.

"No, it isn't-" He promptly ignored her not-so-subtle grumbling and continued: "-I've been working on a project myself for a while and it's...well I was wondering if you guys might agree to do a week long report on the War, and what _really_ happened.." _There_ , he'd said it. He took a deep breath and waited. Studying their faces for a reaction, Harry could decipher very little. The mention of the War darkened their eyes as it tended to do with everyone, but there was more in their expressions that Harry couldn't read.

"Yes pumpkin." Tammah spoke first. "I think that's good." She nodded. "The bullshit the Prophet printed before-Dear _Merlin_ , it made me _sick._ People need to know the truth."

"I not here when it happen, I don't know." Sari shrugged, tugging on his earlobe as he often did when he wasn't entirely comfortable with something. He always felt wrong footed when they spoke of the War since he wasn't in England at the time and couldn't fathom the scope of horror it had wreathed. "Though I think it good. To educate." He elaborated onto his previous statement.

Alright, two out of five, Harry reckoned that wasn't terrible for how he'd expected it'd go. Nolan, Nai and Lalli were still silent, and Harry feared he'd have to bin this idea. It made his stomach churn unpleasantly.

"Yes." Lalli spoke, sounding more somber than he'd ever really heard her. "Ralphie deserves that much. The truth to be spread. Yes, let's do it." A fire burned in her eyes and Harry dared a tentative smile.

"Isn't it a bit too soon though?" Nolan asked, cringing at his own words. "It's just been a full year." He picked at the fraying hem of his worn tshirt. "I mean, wouldn't it be too much?"

"What better time than _now_ to come clean with it all though? It has to be done while people still care. While it's still relevant." Nai spoke up. "Sure it sounds terrible, that a War would one day stop being relevant, but people will move on eventually. If Harry wants to tell the true story, it's best he do it now while the topic garners attention." She placed a gentle palm over Nolan's and a flush rode on his cheeks. Harry was quite sick of their beating around the bush when it was clearly obvious they fancied the hell out of each other.

"I-I suppose you have a point." Nolan cleared his throat, and stroked her hand briefly, biting back a smile. Nai spluttered, pretending it to be a cough.

Tammah and Lalli exchanged an aggrieved look with Harry. _How do they not realize?_

"Thank you guys, so much. This was important to me--" Harry started speaking, feeling three pounds lighter with relief that they'd accepted his proposition.

"Of course it was. You _were_ at the heart of it, weren't you?" Tammah spoke, though it was more of a statement than a question. They didn't know everything of what happened, but he'd come to trust them enough to share a lot of it. It was surprising and yet not how misled they, too, had been until Harry had set things straight. They had all these ideas and rumors that had essentially _nothing_ to do with the truth. It was then that Harry had first gotten the idea to print a tell-all about it, to publish something realistic and true.

A few days later, the project was underway.

~

When Draco caught glimpse of his name on the front page of the Prophet _yet again_ , he scowled and ignored it. He was sure he could predict what it would be about with deadly accuracy. Despite the new, mysterious owner's promises to be different, Draco wasn't inclined to believe it. It was all the same journalistic rubbish, the last bit of it. It was insane how, despite the sizable downgrade in staff, the Prophet managed to up their sales, the mystery factor of the new boss' secret identity helping sell the whole thing. Well, whoever it was, was just another sensationalistic prat and Draco would _not_ indulge it.

As it would turn out a few days later, Draco should have indulged it after all, as he now had people approaching him on the streets to apologize for what he'd suffered, and to commend his bravery in protecting his family. After months of hurled insults and hexes, this was a reaction Draco had not been expecting. People of all ages and genders would approach to ask how he'd done it all, some even told him of their own experiences and Draco had absolutely _no clue_ how to deal with it. In a desperate frenzy to find out what the _fuck_ had managed to change the entire bloody public's mind about him, he bought that edition of the Prophet, and read it.

And he couldn't believe his bloody eyes.

_Despite what our previous reporters might have printed about the story of Draco Malfoy, it's one with a lot more gray rather than just plain black or white. His presence in the War was, indeed, significant, but not all of it was harmful or even consensual. Malfoy had taken the Mark at the age of 16, though it was not by choice. His family was in grave danger from the Dark Lord, and being but a child at the time, he wanted to protect them in any way he could. So he complied with the things ordered of him. He had become a Death Eater, and had been tasked with repairing an artefact known as the Vanishing Cabinet that would allow Death Eaters entry into the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. He was successful in the task, but it had taken a toll on his physical and mental health._

_'He looked ill, skinny and ghastly pale every day.' States our source who'd went to school with Malfoy at the time. He'd also been tasked with murdering Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts later on. Of course, he could not do this, because he is no murderer. The headmaster died at the hand of Severus Snape. Malfoy proved he had good in his heart when he was given the chance to give up Harry Potter to the Dark Lord, but had chosen not to do so. He'd lied in spite of all the risks that carried, and had saved the Chosen One's life that fateful final night of the War. Later, just before the final battle erupted, he'd stood up in face of everything he was taught and tossed Harry Potter a wand to aid him in defeating the Dark Lord._

_Many people were quick to judge Malfoy without ever finding out the full story, which is why the Prophet has seeked out reliable sources that attended school with him to get a fresh angle on his actions. While we at the Prophet by no means deny the bad he's done, we want to point the good he's done too, because it shouldn't be sweeped under the rug in favor of finding someone to blame for the horrors of the War. Our sources have wished to remain anonymous, and we respect that. We understand that this week's editions might be a bit heavy on the soul, but we found it necessary to share the much different story of what took place than the one known to the general public. A perfect example of this is the case of Draco Malfoy, who'd been treated quite harshly for all his mistakes, while no one had stopped to consider everything might not have been how it was painted._

_We mean no disrespect to anyone with this article, and only hope to broaden your horizons a bit._

That...That was...

Draco was speechless. That was...

Words truly failed him in face of this article. No wonder people changed their views of him, after this he'd be hard pressed to find anyone who still viewed him as nothing more than a dirty Death Eater.

Draco ate his own words about the Prophet's new owner, he could have kissed them in that moment. If only he knew who they were...hm...

~

"Harry...it's _disgusting_ how smitten you are with him." Nai tutted after they'd printed the edition for Draco Malfoy.

Harry flushed and scowled at her. So _what_ if he'd perhaps gotten a _bit_ subjective writing Malfoy's story? It wasn't a big deal. So _what_ if he was head over arse in love with him too? It's not like it matters. He and Malfoy hadn't spoken since his trials, and really, Harry had no hopes Malfoy would care about him even if they had remained in touch. There was no harm done in letting himself get a bit carried away.

 _"You're one to talk_. You and Nolan are absolutely _sickening_. Please, _please_ go out already!" He snipped, pouting petulantly. Nai flushed and shook her head of red curls:

"It's not like that between us, really.."

"Yeah, _sure_." Harry arched an eyebrow at her red cheeks, and she sighed deeply, hiding her face away. She grimaced at him:

"And even if it were, which it _isn't_ , you're _much_ worse anyways. If Draco was to walk in here _right now_ and ask you to do a triple backflip, you'd break your back before you quit trying to do it."

Harry scowled and flushed harder. He chose not to dignify that with an answer, as she was actually right and that was disturbing.

"Yeah, Harry's completely whipped for the guy. Can't blame him, he _is_ hot." Tammah called from her cubicle, laughing merrily.

"I'll fire you both!" Harry yelled, desperate in his mortification, and they just cackled harder.

"You love us too much pumpkin." The blonde girl snipped at him and Harry had _had_ it. He stood and stalked into his office, flipping the finger in a general direction over his shoulder, before shutting the door behind him and sliding it down it, settling on the floor.

He was such a _mess._ Hopelessly in love with the wrong guy. It was in their mock Eighth year that he'd first _noticed_ Malfoy. Without all the pride and all the harsh edges and lines that made him look cold and cutthroat, Harry could for the first time appreciate how _beautiful_ he really was. And then, there was the change of heart that had mellowed out his image. He no longer insulted anyone or picked fights, rather, he stopped to offer a shy smile or help pick up someone's things when they bumped into him. At first, Harry had thought it was all a ploy to mend his reputation, but it didn't take long to see he really meant it all. That that's just who he was when there were no Dark Lords and death surrounding him. Harry slipped back into paying attention to him, an easy enough habit to settle into, and grew more and more fascinated. He was so _proud_ that Malfoy had changed for the better, and soon, the blonde had become all Harry could ever think about. The day Harry had finally recognized he was doomed, that he'd fallen hard, was the day he stumbled across Malfoy tutoring some younger students in Potions in the library, with a patient smile and ease of manner that could rival a true professor's. There was just.. _something_ in the sight of this person, who used to be so angry and mean, now patiently sitting and explaining what potion ingredients reacted with what and how to mix properly and such, looking like there was no place he'd rather be, that tugged at Harry's heartstrings.

Since then, it was over really. Harry was in love and helplessly so, and it was someone so sweetly, but painfully unattainable that Harry had no clue what to do but stew in his affections. When he'd come out with this information to Ron and Hermione, they reacted... _less_ than desirably. That was the rift they couldn't mend. They couldn't understand what Harry saw in Malfoy, they _wouldn't even try_ , which is what Harry couldn't forgive them. He understood how difficult it was to forgive and move past all the bad things Malfoy had done to them, he'd had a hard time of it himself, accepting his feelings, but in the end, forgiveness wasn't about the other person. It's for you, to help you let go of the past and move on, look at things anew. They refused to even listen. Ron had yelled at him how he had gone mental, how this wasn't right, how he was turning his back on everything, and Hermione had reflected those words in a much more gentle manner. And so, that conversation stayed closed. They just didn't discuss it, seeing as they couldn't seem to come to a settle. Loath as he was to admit it, it made Harry bitter at them, which is something he didn't want to be with his best friends. They'd been through so much together, but Harry felt he deserved to at least get a chance.

A rap of knocks at his door snapped him out of his thoughts. He stood and composed himself, before swinging the door open and stopping dead in his tracks. Draco bloody Malfoy stood there, looking just as gobsmacked to see Harry as Harry felt at seeing him. Sari was running up behind Malfoy, squeezing out between breaths:

"We tell him-We tell him you no want anyone to know-but he demand! He push past and he-finde dich-"

Harry couldn't help but gawk for a few seconds. Malfoy looked _amazing._ Still tall and lean, the shock of platinum blonde hair a bit longer now, curling around his face, framing it like a portrait. He'd grown into his features and Harry's heart wasn't sure how to cope.

"I-Err, hi Malfoy?" It was pitiful, Harry was well aware, but it was the best he could do.

Malfoy seemed to regain himself from his state of mute shock upon hearing Harry's voice and shook his head, a sudden, resigned, sort of self-deprecating laugh huffing out of him:

"Of _course_ it's bloody you. It's _always_ you."

Harry was still dumbstruck. He led Malfoy into his office by his elbow and shut the door behind him.

A few seconds of thick, uncomfortable silence passed between them, until Harry cleared his throat and schooled himself:

"Right, listen, if you're upset with the article we printed about you, it's no problem at all to pull it from the shelves-"

Something seemed to snap alight in Malfoy at those words:

 _"Upset?!_ I came here to _thank_ whoever wrote it!"

"What for? It's just the truth-" Harry felt confused by this, why would Malfoy want to thank the writer? It's not like anything that wasn't true was written.

"Don't be ridiculous Potter, _no one_ ever bothered to find out the _truth_ before and you bloody well know it."

Harry bit his lip and conceded the point with a nod. It was one of the things he kept in mind while writing Malfoy's edition.

"What's _more_ , no one ever cared to _write_ about it either. Do you have _any_ idea what this bloody article means?"

Harry didn't, in fact, know. The papers sold like hot-cakes, but he didn't know how it might've affected Malfoy personally. His prolonged silence seemed to tip Malfoy off to the fact Harry was clueless, because he heatedly continued, voice rising an octave:

"It _means,_ Potter, that I'm able to step out and not worry about getting a Sting to my back. That my mother can tend to her garden without being spat at. It _means_ that people _finally_ understand, _finally_ see, _you bloody idiot."_

Harry sucked in a breath, and allowed a moment for those words to sink in. Allowed himself a moment to feel their weight. He didn't know how deeply the article had taken, but he was so happy for it. Malfoy was flushed and heaving breaths, he looked embarrassed to have just admitted something personal to Harry, but Harry just dipped his head in a respectful nod:

"You're welcome then." He dared a soft smile to show there's no ill will for it, no mockery of his words.

Malfoy's face melted into something... _wanton,_ just for the barest, fleeting second, before he curtly nodded and turned to leave. Before he could however, Harry remembered something important:

"Oh, Malfoy! Don't tell anyone, about me I mean. I'd like to keep it secret."

Malfoy threw him a ghost of a smile of his own over his slim shoulder:

"Of course I won't Potter. It's our secret." With a wink, he was gone.

It took a long time for Harry's heartbeat to steady.

~

Potter. _Potter._

It was Potter. Draco wasn't even remotely surprised to find this out. Only Potter would do something like this. When he'd seen him again, _Gods_ , his stomach flipped. Just _when_ had Potter started looking like _that?_ It was bad enough Draco had been dragging around a hefty crush since school, now Potter had to go and..and.. _assault_ Draco with his bloody hair and glasses and eyes and muscles. _Prat._

Draco was embarrassingly happy to find that it was Potter who'd written the article though. He was disgustingly pleased that Potter's opinion of him was such. And that small smile he'd sent Draco's way.. _ugh_ , _feelings._

What a _disaster_.

His mother had been shocked to find Draco suddenly buying every paper the Prophet put out daily, going from a complete aversion and hatred of them, to this... _obsession._ Whenever she asked why, Draco would flush and tell her it was a secret. His and Potter's secret. Ploughing through those five reporters to get to the boss was _so_ worth the hassle, Draco found.

He was contently floating in his lovesick haze for a few days, until one day he'd received a parcel.

He opened it to find a note and a folded up newspaper. The note simply read:

_'I trusted you. Why?'_

Draco went cold from that alone, but then he unfolded the paper and his heart dropped into his heels with dread. The front page read, in big, bold letters:

_'The mysterious buyer of the Daily Prophet finally revealed: HARRY POTTER'_

Oh god. Oh _hell._ Something shattered inside Draco as he realized Potter thought Draco had done it. That Draco had ratted him out. He went numb for a few moments before dropping everything and rushing out of the Manor hastily, making for the Prophet's building in a run. He had to go tell Potter it wasn't him, he _wouldn't_ do that, no, he had to explain-

When he arrived, he found the building empty, save for two people cleaning. Draco hurried in, and when they saw him they scowled deeply. The girl with blonde hair and a slight limp, and the man with a mint buzzcut stalked up to him angrily, dropping their cleaning supplies. When they were close enough, Draco was about to speak, when she whipped out her wand and pressed it to his chin, face contorted into anger, tears burning in her eyes:

"You _bastard!_ How could you?!"

Draco swallowed heavily, and took a slow step back.

"Wait, _please listen-"_

The other man cut him off:

"Harry tell me you good. He was wrong. He in das Krankenhaus now because of you!"

Draco had no clue what the guy had said, but it sounded vaguely like German. Before he could try to explain himself again, the girl shook her wand hand at him:

"A mob swarmed the building. Harry tried to put up wards to protect us, but they snapped under the pressure. They trampled Harry in here, he's in Mungo's now. I hope you're bloody happy."

_Oh dear sweet Merlin no._

Draco found he couldn't loiter around here pleading his innocence. _Dear Christ_ Potter was injured. He turned tail and made it out of the building, only remembering halfway to Mungo's he was, in fact, a wizard, and he could Apparate. Potter had a way of making Draco forget his own bloody name. As soon as he'd landed at the reception, he'd begged and pleaded until the woman broke down and led him to Harry's room.

When he arrived there however, he felt a spike of fury taint through him. _Rita Skeeter_ was in the room already, preparing to snap a picture of Harry, unconscious and bruised in the hospital bed. Draco scowled and flicked his wand, crumpling her camera into a pitiful ball. She gasped and turned her glare on Draco, who had just entered. He made sure his back was straight, chin up, shoulders squared. He'd be damned if he let this bloodhound see an ounce of chagrin he was feeling on him.

"Mr.Malfoy, that was _most_ uncouth behavior." She snicked, faux innocence heavy in her tone.

Draco leveled her with a smile that could freeze hell:

"I daresay taking a picture of someone without their express consent passes for a much worse offense."

Her lips curled up derisively:

"And what would you call betraying the identity of someone who entrusted you with it?"

It hit Draco like the Hogwarts Express what had happened. Back when the Prophet was bought out, Skeeter had been the first of many to get _fired._

"You wench it was _you-_ " He hissed, anger flaring through him anew.

Rita tutted and folded her hands at her front:

"Now, now, such vulgarities are uncalled for."

Despite his upbringing being an exercise in keeping himself in check in any situation, Draco found it particularly difficult not to turn her into a frog. He hardened his jaw and slanted her with a cold, haughty stare:

"Shame it is then that such _vulgarities_ describe you perfectly, _Mrs.Skeeter."_

Her smile grew strained, indignation flashed in her eyes, though she didn't rise to the bait:

"I find that I've done nothing wrong. Nothing undeserved at the very _least."_ She topped her statement off with an infuriating bat of her fake eyelashes and a tilt to her head.

Just as Draco had had _enough_ , she burrowed on:

"I've worked for the Prophet for three _decades!_ I know how it _breathes_ , and then this..this _orphan_ comes along and _takes_ it away from me. No, _nothing_ undeserved in the _least."_ Finally, her composure cracked, her breath coming heavy with the repressed rage.

Draco laughed at her. He laughed a disbelieving laugh.

"All you've _ever_ done was make people _miserable."_

Rita snarled hatefully:

"Oh, because _you're_ the paragon of purity, _Death Eater._ "

The barb stung. Draco figured it would always sting, no matter how much time passed. But he didn't show her that. He wouldn't ever give her the satisfaction.

"If you were _ever_ even _half_ the reporter he is-"

"Careful Malfoy. Don't forget that compliment could cost you _dearly_. Don't forget _who_ you're talking to darling." She smoothly cut in, her tone rich with malice.

Draco grit his teeth. He needed to be careful. Even half a compliment aimed at Potter could be twisted in God knows what way. It seemed to be Skeeter's special power, twisting people's words. Even still, he couldn't help but chuckle dryly at her:

"Write what you will of me, you old harpy, you know _nothing_ of my opinion of Potter."

A wolfish grin raked over her features:

"Oh? And just what _is_ your opinion of him? Hm?"

Draco's eyes strayed to Potter on their own. Asleep in the bed, with a bruise blooming on his cheek, and a cut grazing his right brow, hair wild and tousled as ever, he still looked like a bloody _dream._ Draco's dream. Tearing his eyes away, he turned them back on Skeeter, about to retort how it was none of her bloody business, but it was too late. All it took was that one little slip up, one moment of tenderness, and she knew.

"I _see_." She murmured, demeanor growing icy calm. She knew, oh _God._ A waspish smile stretched her lips, while she spoke and smoothed down her outfit: "Heh, did you _really_ ever think _you_ had a _chance_ with _Harry Potter_? How _cute._ Sorry to burst your bubble, sunshine, but he would _never_ love the likes of _you."_

Draco closed his eyes in face of those words. He knew that, of course he did, all of it, but it didn't hurt any less hearing it. His gut clenched, but he forced his voice out:

"It's none of your bloody business. Get the hell out of here you miserable hag."

Rita sidled up to him, a dark threat hanging in her eyes:

"Careful now. If you let your mouth run away with you, I might just let my mouth run away with me. And we wouldn't want _that_ , now would we?"

Draco swallowed at the implications, and she breezed past him, disappearing out of the room. Now that she was finally gone, Draco let himself relax. He made it over to Harry's bed and slumped into the chair next to it bonelessly. He lazily studied him for a second longer, before reaching out a tentative hand to smooth away his wild fringe from his forehead, indulging his many years long wish to card his fingers through his hair. It was soft, and curly under his touch and Draco couldn't help but smile fondly. _Merlin he was such a fool for him._

"I wouldn't of done that to you. I care too much to ever wish to hurt you again." Draco whispered, hoping beyond hope Harry might've heard his words, might even believe them. Pulling himself away, he left on jelly legs.

~

Harry sat up the moment Draco left the room, breath stuttering. He had never, _ever_ despised someone as much as he did Skeeter in those moments of her conversation with Draco. Harry was so happy it wasn't Draco who'd ratted him out, he felt so gutted when he saw that paper. And then the mob, oh _God_ , was his team okay? Harry shook his head and took a deep breath. He'd woken up when he heard something metal crumple and crack, and pretended to be still asleep all through the exchange. Draco's fingers still burned on his skin where he'd brushed his hair away. A tentative hope blossomed in his chest, after so long of nursing hopelessness there, that Harry could have flown without a broom. However, there was still the issue of Skeeter's threat looming above Draco's head. Harry chewed on his lip and considered what to do about it. How to sabotage her upper hand. He didn't know whether Draco was ready to make anything public, but Harry had already formed a decision. The perfect crime.

As soon as he was discharged he Apparated to the small paper Skeeter worked for now and marched right in, barging into her office with a wild smile on his face. She looked shocked to see him. Harry laid his palms flat on her desk and leant forward, leering into her face:

"You want a scandal, Skeeter? I'll give you a scandal."

"What-?" Rita tried, but Harry grinned wider, his voice coming out steady despite the tremble of his nerves:

"I, Harry Potter, am extremely _gay_ , and _madly in love_ with the one and only, Draco Malfoy."

She fell silent, studying him intently:

"You-You _are_?" The woman finally asked, and Harry straightened up:

" _Yes._ That ought to cause a _commotion_ in tomorrow's edition. Have at it Skeeter, don't let an _orphan_ like me stop you."

And with those words, Harry turned on his heel and strode out, Apparating to Grimmauld where he'd told his friends to go, and stumbling into his living room, summoning a tumbler and a decanter of whiskey. They all stood upon seeing him, but Harry shook his head, downing glass after glass. On his third one, Nolan managed to stop him:

"Harry, mate, _what_ happened?"

"I've _really_ put my foot in it _now-"_ It was all Harry could choke out, the whiskey helping numb down his throbbing blood.

After he'd calmed considerably, he managed to explain the situation to them, and they all wore the same somber looks.

"That was perhaps...just a _tad_ bit rash pumpkin." Tammah pushed through a grimace. Sari scoffed at her:

"You pulled wand on him."

Tammah shrugged:

"Fair enough, but _still."_

"I think it was kind of sweet." Lalli grinned, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, skimming her piercing as she often did.

"Sweet?" Nolan arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah. He stood up for his man." She countered, giving Harry a thumbs up that eased his tension somewhat.

"I wish I could be that brave." Nai sighed, casting a discreet glance at Nolan, cheeks coloring.

"You _are_." Nolan assured her, touching her shoulder lightly, and turning his attention back to Harry.

"Thank you guys. Really." He chuckled, exhaling slowly. He felt better already.

"Of course. It's what we're here for." Sari assured, in a rare display of correct grammar in a sentence. He was getting better, Harry was proud of him.

"Tomorrow me and Nai will go back to collect all the important paperwork, since we didn't exactly have time when..yea.." Nolan cringed and shook his head. He'd been seriously afraid with the staggering amount of people banging at the building. No wonder Harry had been so insistent on keeping it all incognito.

"For now, let's just relax for a bit okay? Before the fray starts." Tammah suggested, putting on the Wireless.

They all agreed with easy grins.

~

The next day, Draco had found out Harry was discharged from Mungo's, and he'd decided to head back to the Prophet's old building, hoping to find someone there that might tell him where Harry is, because Draco really needed to explain. As soon as he'd stepped past the Manor's gates though, he was swarmed by the press. They were stumbling over each other, pushing to get to the front and yell questions at him. For the first few seconds Draco couldn't even make out what they were saying, caught out in his surprise as he was, but then he focused.

"How do you feel about Harry Potter's yesterday's proclamation?" One woman with a messy bun asked.

"What do you have to comment about Mr.Potter's affections towards you?" Another man with a tattoo on his neck yelled.

"Do you consider it plausible this would happen after the history between you two?" A third girl with a far too high-pitched voice inquired.

And Draco had absolutely _no_ _idea_ what they were talking about. For the second time in the past month, he found himself put out in public.

"Wait, _wait!_ I have no idea what you people are talking about!" He yelled over them, standing up straight.

They stilled, and blinked owlishly at him for a moment, before they took a few steps back and allowed him some space. One of them passed him newspaper.

Draco opened it and started to read.

_In today's edition, we bring you the story of quite the spectacle that befell our esteemed reporter Rita Skeeter yesterday. Seen by multiple of our employes, Mr.Potter had stormed right into Mrs.Skeeter's office, and was heard to declare the following, word for word:_

_'I, Harry Potter, am extremely gay, and madly in love with the one and only Draco Malfoy.'_

There was more text after that, but Draco couldn't see it. His vision had blurred, and he felt fine tremors going through his hands. His heart was flinging itself wildly around his chest, threatening to crack his ribs. His mind had whirred to a fucking halt. A snap of a camera roused him out of it.

"So, thoughts?" They asked. Draco bit back a sob:

"No comment." He grit, and pushed through them, keeping a brisk pace to get away, but they followed, the bloody vultures, so he Apparated straight into the Prophet's building, landing directly into Harry's old office. He took a moment to bear with the sickness in his gut from apparition, and took in his surroundings. He was pleased to find there were two people there, though he was terribly sorry he'd interrupted what was a fervent snogging session. The two jumped apart with a gasp and turned to him, flushed fiercely.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt-I need, I need Potter, er Harry-" He gushed.

The girl flattened her red frizzy hair, discreetly adjusted her top, and cleared her throat:

"He's hiding away for a bit. Why?"

Draco pressed a hand to his pulsing eyelids, swallowing another sob of happiness:

"I _really_ need to see him, _right now. Please."_

"Listen, he..he was awake when you went to see him at the hospital. He heard what you and Skeeter talked about, and he..heard her threaten you. He figured if he was going down, he was taking that beetle bint with him. Figured to take away her upper hand before she thought to use it. That's what the article's about, I assume that's why you need to see him?" The man explained, tugging his long hair back into a scruffy, short pony tail.

Draco couldn't believe it. He laughed, loudly, freely for the first time in fuck knows how long:

" _Yes_ , and I _really_ owe him a proper, long overdue snog I've been _desperate_ after for _years_ for this, so for Helga's sake just take me to him."

The two exchanged bright smiles then and conceded without another word of complaint. They approached and gripped one of Draco's forearms each, Apparating away.

They all stumbled into a vast living room, where Draco recognized Granger and Weasley talking to Harry with rather terrifying expressions on their faces. When the three of them arrived, all eyes turned to them, and the room seemed to freeze.

"Potter you blithering idiot." Draco choked out, and Potter flushed, looking away. "Brilliant bloody blithering idiot." A sob finally forced past his control but Draco grinned in spite of it. Harry stood up immediately, looking concerned, but Draco shook his head. "How are you even _real?"_ The blonde mumbled more to himself than anyone else, making it closer to Harry in two long strides, his whole body shaking. He brought a trembling hand to cup Harry's face, feeling mildly embarrassed at the tear slipping down his cheek, but finding that he didn't much care. Harry leaned into his touch, and wrapped his own arms around Draco's waist, pulling them flush together.

To this day, no one could really tell who leaned in first, but in the next moment, the two were kissing, clinging to each other like drowning men cling to driftwood. It was messy, and unrestrained and so fucking _perfect_ it hurt. Draco whimpered from the force of it, tasting a tear in their kiss, though he wasn't sure whose it was anymore.

It didn't matter who was watching them, it didn't matter that Granger and Weasley were staring with eyes dawning in realization, or that the other people present were grinning wide grins and murmuring encouragements, all that mattered, was that they now had each other.

After they'd pulled away, grinning like besotted fools, Harry chuckled:

"I already caused one scandal. Think they can handle another so soon?"

Draco laughed and pressed their foreheads together:

"Why don't we find out?"

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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